


please say next year that you will be mine

by vavafroome (spaceboy_niko)



Series: twelve days of ficmas [8]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa, Unrequited Love, vaguely angsty festiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/vavafroome
Summary: on the eighth day of christmas, george bennett is a coward.
Relationships: George Bennett/Primož Roglič
Series: twelve days of ficmas [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045978
Kudos: 6





	please say next year that you will be mine

**Author's Note:**

> yes i'm powering through these yes it means they're possibly getting worse no i do not care  
> t for swears as always
> 
> (title from christmas drag by idkhow)

Every year, at the end of the season, the Jumbo-Visma boys hold a little celebration before they all go their separate ways for Christmas. Their directors make them draw names at their last races, and they buy a present for whichever of their teammates they pull. Grischa, Addy and Merijn draw lots to see who plays Santa, keeping an element of surprise throughout the whole thing.

George decided a few years ago that this anonymity is perfect for him to do something incredibly ballsy.

Ever since Primož was their pretty new Slovenian rider, the subject of much debate from Grischa and much smugness from Merijn, George has had his eye on him. He’d fallen head over heels for his clunky English and genuine smile, gotten distracted by his beautiful eyes in the middle of conversations, found himself breathless on training rides when Roglič takes the front, giving George a perfect view of his machine-like body hard at work.

To put it lightly, George has been smitten from the beginning.

That first year was the perfect opportunity for a heartfelt yet anonymous gift, or it would have been if George didn’t draw Stevie fucking Kruijswijk - finding a gift was like trying to buy a Christmas present for the Grinch himself. He settles for a brew-your-own-beer kit that’s practically guaranteed to end in disaster, but what more can be expected from George, really?

He also buys Roglič something - a pretty little ornament, a flat circle made out of a deep red wood and carved with petite deer, hung by a forest-green ribbon. He puts arguably more thought into this than he does into the gift he's meant to give, but he doesn't care.

The week before the party, George gets cold feet. It'll definitely be suspicious if he leaves two presents under the tree, and he'll be so nervous the whole night that Primož will have no trouble figuring out it's him. George isn't quite as ready for that sort of confrontation as he'd thought, not yet.

So he does what any coward would do and mails it - takes it to a post office in Amsterdam and asks, in halting Dutch, whether this will get to Slovenia by Christmas.

He pays a little extra for express shipping, just in case.

They all compare trees on their WhatsApp group once they're all home. George's is disappointing - he's a bachelor in an apartment in Girona, a good tree is hard for him - but Primož's is covered in twinkly lights and tinsel, and if George zooms in, he can see his gift hanging amongst it all.

* * *

And so this game has continued for years, Roglič never looking to George as being the one mailing him presents.

It hurts - hurts that Roglič doesn’t know it’s him, hurts that he feels like this so much, hurts that he doesn’t even know if Roglič feels the same. 

This year, George has a little paua shell pendant on a fine silver chain, carved into the same koru that makes up the body of the kiwi on his bicep. If Roglič doesn’t realise that this is from him, George will have to accept he’s in love with a total idiot.

Grischa announces after the Tour that, because of the situation - why do all the officials refer to it as a situation? - their end-of-year celebration won’t be held in person, and they’ll all go home after their last races. The team will cover mailing costs for presents, and they’ll open them up on a Zoom call.

The mood on the bus darkens further at this news.

George feels the same panic he did at Roglič's first Christmas - two presents in the mail is going to be suspicious as all hell. He has to figure out another way to deliver it stealthily. If George had ever believed in Santa Claus, he would be feeling pretty sympathetic for the guy right now.

He keeps its box in his bag with him, and he waits for an opportunity.

Worlds passes, and the Vuelta begins, and George keeps making excuses to himself, until they have one day left of racing and he and Roglič are sharing a room that night. It's a last resort, because he'll have to tell Roglič everything, and that's something he doesn't particularly want to do, but procrastinators can't be choosers.

They wear red into Madrid, and they celebrate, and then Primož and George are alone in their room, and Primož takes second shower, leaving George with his slowly-drying hair and his thoughts.

"Now or never, George," he tells himself begrudgingly, retrieves the box from his bag, peeks inside to make sure the pendant is okay, and hides it behind his back as Primož emerges from the bathroom.

"Hey, Rogla?" he begins, and fuck, there is no going back now.

"Yeah?" Primož is chipper and half-naked, holding up the towel around his waist as he searches for clean underwear.

George hadn't thought this far about what he was going to say.

"Who did you draw for the Christmas presents?"

"It's a secret, Georgie. You're not supposed to tell." Primož turns around to face him with a good-natured smile, and George tries not to look at the fold in his towel just in front of his pelvis.

"Just curious. I keep getting the same people, that's all." _Small talk, why the fuck are we making small talk?_ George internally yells at himself.

Primož nods in agreement. "I had to find a present for Teunissen for two years. He's tricky."

George fidgets with the box behind his back. "I, uh...I got you a present."

Primož raises his eyebrows. "You're meant to keep it secret."

"No, no," George hastily corrects. "I just...did it because I wanted to."

Primož's eyebrows stay raised, and George holds the box out, and when did his hands get so shaky?

He watches Primož open it, and isn't sure if Primož is blushing or if it's just the light as he carefully takes the pendant out, letting it dangle from its chain as he examines it.

"This is beautiful, Georgie." The nickname sounds so heartfelt, and George has butterflies everywhere. "It's the nicest present you've ever given me."

Shit, what?

"I've never given you a present, Primož. I've never drawn your name."

Primož smiles, a small, sheepish smile. "But there were other boxes. Things I got in the mail. I was confused, for sure, but then one of them had a mail stamp from Girona and you are the only one I know who lives there, yeah?"

George always forgets how smart Primož is, and kicks himself mentally.

"Yeah, you're right, fuck," George concedes, wanting to curl up and hide from Primož.

Primož laughs. "It's okay, Georgie. It's very kind of you."

George helps him fasten the chain around his neck, where the silver clashes with his gold cross, but Primož doesn't seem to care.

"Why do you send me a gift, huh? Is this a, uh, a thing you do for the team?" Primož inquires, seated beside George on his bed, still shirtless and distracting.

George takes a deep breath, sighs it out, and shakes his head. "Just you. And I do it because-"

The words shouldn't be that hard, and yet they are.

"-because I'm- I think you'll like them, that's all," he finishes lamely.

"Uh-huh." It feels like Primož isn't falling for any of his shit, but is choosing to let it slide.

"This isn't weird now, right?"

Primož shakes his head. "It was a little, when you would send me a present with no note, no nothing."

George has to laugh - that was very weird of him, he'll concede that.

"But this one, this was nice, yeah? You're sweet, you think very hard about the presents, for sure, and I-"

George gets distracted in the middle of Primož's sentence by Primož resting a hand atop his own. Europeans are weird, he thinks, this could be friendly or this could be more, decides to bite the bullet and lean in to kiss Primož with closed lips.

It doesn't last long, and Primož doesn't kiss back.

George pulls away quickly, and pulls his hand out from under Primož's. Primož is quiet, looking over George like he's trying to evaluate the situation.

"I'm sorry," George says quietly.

Primož is still quiet, still processing.

"It's okay," he answers, finally, waiting another beat before asking, "Is that why?"

George feels sick and miserable as he nods.

Primož nods slowly. "Okay."

"I'm sorry, Rogla," he says again.

"I need to think, George." Not _Georgie_ , just _George_.

They don't speak for the rest of the night, only give cursory goodbyes in the morning, and make their ways home.

Primož takes his time to think, all the way up to the day of the end of year Zoom call, and George sees when Primož's video loads that he's still wearing the paua shell.

His gift arrived with a well-wrapped box and a card, and he saves the card for later, but inside the box is a snow globe, containing a pretty mountain with chalets scattered below its peak and clusters of pine trees. The snow and silver glitter tumble in eddies as he takes it out of its packaging, and he's mesmerised for a second, setting it on his desk as he thanks whoever gave it to him.

He fakes having to go for a piss partway through, turns off his camera and microphone, and opens the card.

_Georgie,_

_Let's figure this out together._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Primož xx_

He tries to rearrange his face out of the dumbstruck grin when he turns his camera back on, and he thinks Primož smiles back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> that bit about george not believing in santa is real and honestly it explains a lot


End file.
